


Beautiful

by starcuffedjeans



Category: Pentatonix
Genre: Gay, I love these people a lot, Im obsessed, M/M, Pentatonix - Freeform, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 14:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11534343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starcuffedjeans/pseuds/starcuffedjeans
Summary: aight, so this is on my wattpad too (rosegoldgrxssi) but I felt like putting it on here as well to branch out lmao. pls enjoy if you can!!





	Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> aight, so this is on my wattpad too (rosegoldgrxssi) but I felt like putting it on here as well to branch out lmao. pls enjoy if you can!!

Ever since I was a young boy, I could tell that my parents were in love. I could see the small looks of affection, see the small kisses that meant so much, I could hear the adoration in their voices when they spoke to each other. Even as a naive six year old, the love between my parents was not hard to overlook. 

I didn't understand love. I didn't understand how you could dedicate all your time and energy towards a person, I didn't understand how you could put a person before yourself. It just made no sense to me. 

Around my eighth birthday, I heard my dad say a sentence that I was very familiar with, "How did I get so lucky to have the most beautiful woman in the world in my life?" 

I had always frowned at those words. My dad certainly knew that my mom wasn't the most beautiful woman in the world. I had always assumed that he was just saying that to be nice. 

As I grew older, my confusion only grew. In movies and in books two characters would always fall in love, and the all too familiar line would make appearances over and over again. However out of my whole family, I seemed to be the only one who was confused about the statement.

When I had turned fourteen, I finally asked my dad about it.

We had been on a fishing trip, and were driving back home around ten pm. My dad's much loved Guns N' Roses album was playing softly through the pickup truck speakers as I watched the dark forests surround us, the moon barely visible through the tops of the trees.

"Dad?" I asked quietly, glancing at my father, "why do you always call mom the most beautiful woman in the world?"

My dad smiled softly, his blue eyes meeting my own before flickering back towards the empty road in front of him. 

"There's something you need to know son," he paused, trying to find the right words, "beauty is subjective, not everyone is going to find the same things to be beautiful."

I processed his words, "I don't understand."

He chuckled, "Okay, let's use flowers as an example. What's your favourite flower?" 

I thought for a minute, "Sunflowers."

He grinned, "So you may find sunflowers beautiful, but your sister might not. She might think roses are beautiful, but you might disagree."

I processed this newfound information, the music seemed to play even louder in the background now that there was no talking. 

"So..." I started, "I may find things beautiful, but other people could disagree?"

My dad nodded, "That's the tough thing: everyone has their own opinions. Even if we don't agree on something, it doesn't necessarily mean it's wrong."

"So when you say mom is the most beautiful woman in the world..." I trailed off.

"It doesn't mean that it's true. In my opinion it's the truth, but for other people they'll have their own beautiful woman in their life," my dad chuckled at my silence, "don't worry son, you'll find your beautiful woman one day."

Suddenly the atmosphere in the car seemed louder. My heart felt like it was beating in my ears, and I started to sweat. 

"Dad..." I started, not sure how I could introduce this conversation.

He glanced at me but didn't say anything, letting me think about how I wanted to word my thoughts. 

"What-what if I don't want...." I took a deep breath, "what if I don't want a beautiful woman exactly?"

My dad frowned, "I don't understand what you mean?"

"What if...if I want a-a man instead?" 

I looked over to see my dad's reaction. He looked in the rear-view mirror before slowly pulling over to the side of the road, and parking the car. Silence immediately fell over the both of us before he slowly turned in his seat, facing me.

"Are you telling me that you're gay?"

I let out a breath that I didn't even know I was holding in. My face flushed a dark red, and tears welled up in my eyes.

"I can't help it dad, I know that it's not acceptable and I've tried to change it, I really did! Please just know that it's not my fault!"

I shut my eyes, bracing myself for the worst, and I tensed up when I heard laughing. I opened my eyes slowly, surprised to see my father chuckling in his seat, his eyes never leaving my face. This was not suppose to happen. He was supposed to yell and scream and kick me out of his car but instead... He was laughing?

"You're not mad?" I asked quietly, afraid that my voice was going to shake my dad out of his fake reaction and he was going to burst and start yelling about how I was a disgrace, but it never came.

My dad shook his head, "Why would I be mad?"

I glanced around the car nervously, "Because, it-it's not right."

He took a deep breath, "Scott, remember what I said: beauty is subjective. People have opinions and preferences. Just because it's not the most popular opinion in the world, it doesn't mean that it's not wrong."

"So, you're okay with me preferring men over women?"

He smiled and patted my knee reassuringly, "You're still my son, and you still make me proud. Just because you're going to marry a man one day, doesn't mean I won't love you any less."

I smiled, relief filling every part of my body, the nervous pounding of my heart reducing to a normal pattern. My dad started the car again, driving back onto the road, the music filling our ears once again.

"So nothing changes, right?" I asked him, wanting a little more reassurance.

"Nothing changes," he smiled at me, "except that you'll find the most beautiful man in the world instead of a woman."

 

 

 

 

And he was right.

 

 

 

 

It was in my second year of university when I saw him for the first time. I was working my usual shift at Starbucks when he ran inside the small cafe, trying to dodge the steady downpour outside. My eyes were immediately drawn towards the loud ringing of the bell over the entrance, and seconds later, they landed on the most beautiful person I'd ever seen.

He had black hair that was buzzed at the side of his head, leaving a long fringe at the top which was now soaking wet. He was skinny and tall, wearing only a pair of black skinny jeans and a long grey t-shirt that was sticking to his torso due to the water. Small tattoos littered his arms, and I could faintly see another one through his shirt, resting over his heart. He carried a black backpack on his shoulders, and his hands were lacking an umbrella.

His dark brown eyes briefly met mine before he turned away quickly, trying to find a seat in the warm, coffee-smelling cafe. 

"Poor kid," I looked over to see my friend and coworker, Esther, staring at the boy as well, "looks like he got caught in the storm."

I wanted to respond with a snarky comment like, "No duh Sherlock." but all that came out of my mouth was a faint, "Yeah."

She looked at me knowingly, before shaking her head and walking over to the cash register where a student was waiting patiently for assistance. 

A few minutes later she walked back over to me, "You know, you could just talk to him."

I shook my head, "No way, I'm not talking to him. What if he thinks I'm weird?"

"He won't think you're weird. Any boy would be dying to get your attention."

I stared at her blankly, "There's only one problem Es: he's probably straight."

"You won't know unless you approach him," she shrugged, wiping her hands on her apron, "go talk to him, I promise you won't regret it."

"That's unlikely," I muttered.

She gave me a small push, "Just go over there, ask if he's cold, and then offer to buy him a coffee." 

I stared at her, "I can't do that. That's too forward!"

"Scott, get your ass over there and talk to him. If he happens to be into girls and not guys, then it's his loss. You won't know until you try."

I stood still, repeating her words in my head before mustering up a bit of courage to start walking in his general direction. When I was halfway across the room, I turned back around to see Esther giving me the thumbs up.

Breathe Scott. I thought to myself as I saw the black-haired boy come into view. It's just a boy.

He was sitting by himself in a booth, looking frantically through his bag. A small puddle of water was on the floor at his feet that had dripped off of his wet clothes. 

"Are you alright over here?" I asked him, my voice coming out a lot shakier than I'd like.

His head snapped up towards me, his beautiful brown eyes meeting my blue ones for the second time that day. I could finally see him up close. My eyes quickly raked over every part of his face, trying to soak in every detail. His dark eyebrows were perfectly plucked, and a small, almost unnoticeable septum piercing glinted in the light. My breath caught in my throat as his eyes scanned my face, and a small smile pulled at his lips.

"Uh, yeah. I'm alright," he said quickly.

It seemed as if every coherent thought escaped my mind when he opened his mouth and started speaking. I had to remind myself continuously to stay calm and not run away from the situation. His voice was smooth like honey, reeling you in until you were hanging on to every word.

"Actually, I'm not," he continued when nothing came out of my mouth, "I can't find my phone, and I was supposed to meet my friend at a restaurant for dinner, but it's too rainy outside to make it, and I can't contact her."

I suddenly remembered that I was able to speak, "Y-you can use my phone if you want." 

His eyes widened in surprise, and I mentally patted myself on the back. I could hear Esther's sound of approval in the back of my mind. 

"Uh, yeah that would be nice, thank you," he responded, "you can sit down if you'd like."

My legs jerkily made their way to the seat across from him, and I sat down rather ungracefully, my face turning pink.

"Here," I said, handing over my phone.

He smiled in thanks, before typing in a number and holding the phone to his ear, "Hey Kirstie," He started talking after a couple seconds of silence, "Yeah I can't make it.... I know I promised but I got caught in the rain.... I'm stuck in Starbucks.... I'm using someone's phone, I can't find mine.... Look I'll call you later.... Okay love you too, bye."

He hung up, before quickly handing me the phone. 

"Girlfriend problems?" I asked nervously, dreading the answer.

The boy coughed, "Girlfriend? Oh no," he started chuckling awkwardly, "um, you see, I don't-I don't exactly like....girls."

Relief spread through my whole body, "Oh! Of course!" my voice came out a lot more high pitched than I wanted it to, causing the boy to look at me weirdly. "I mean, uh, yeah I don't like-I don't exactly like girls either."

"Oh," he said, his face turning a little bit pink. 

"Yeah," I responded awkwardly.

An awkward silence came over the both of us, and I forced my brain to quickly come up with a good conversation starter.

"So you see, I was wondering--"

"This is weird, but I wanted to--"

We both stopped talking and stared at each other.

"Oh," he said again.

"Huh," I responded smartly.

"You go first," he said quickly, gesturing with his hands.

I scratched the back of my neck, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah."

I started blushing, thinking about the words that were going to come out of my mouth.

"Well, I was wondering if-if you maybe wanted to get coffee with me? Like, now?" I trailed off, my face turning even redder.

"Oh," his face turned red too, and the corners of his mouth turned up, "yeah, I'd like that."

A smile slowly spread across my face, "Really?" 

His smile mirrored my own, "Yeah."

I stood up quickly, my hip smacking against the table, "Um, what would you like?"

He grinned, "I'll just have a small coffee with milk and sugar please."

I nodded, his order repeating in my brain, "I'll be right back."

I quickly made my way over to the counter where Esther was still standing at the cash register.

"So lover boy? What happened?" she smiled, as one of my own quickly made it's way to my face. 

"He agreed to have coffee with me! A cute boy is having coffee with me!" 

"Way to go, Scooter!" she said enthusiastically, giving me a high five, "what's his name?"

My smile immediately fell from my face, causing Esther to stare at me in disbelief.

"You don't know his name?"

"I didn't think to ask! I was so nervous! I'll ask when I get back." I said quickly, defending myself.

She rolled her eyes before asking me what his order was.

"Small coffee with milk and sugar."

She raised her eyebrows, "I'm assuming you want your usual?"

I grinned, "Yes please."

She moved to go make the drinks, as I stood at the counter waiting impatiently, my legs bouncing in anticipation. A few minutes later she returned holding the two steaming cups in her hands. 

"Good luck Scotty. Remember to get his name!"

I nodded and took the drinks from her, making my way back to the table where the boy was sitting. My heart leaped in my chest as his figure came into view.

"Here you go," I said, setting his cup in front of him.

He smiled at me, his beautiful eyes shining, "Thank you."

I smiled, "No problem."

Conversation wasn't too hard to start with him. I learned that he was studying music (same as me), and that he wanted to move to Los Angeles one day to pursue his music career. Before I knew it, our cups were empty and the rain had stopped outside. He glanced out the window, and his smile dropped just slightly.

"It was really nice meeting you, and thanks again for the coffee, but I should probably get going."

My smile dropped ever so slightly as well, "Yeah, of course. It was no problem."

He smiled sheepishly at me, before standing up slowly, and swinging his bag over his shoulder. 

"Wait," I spoke without thinking, "will I be able to see you again?"

His smile grew, "Yeah, I'd like that a lot."

I grinned in response, "What's your name?" I blurted out, hearing my imaginary Esther applauding in the back of my head.

He smiled, his eyes shining, "Mitch. Mitch Grassi. What's yours?"

My smile mirrored his, I was happy that the beautiful boy now had a name, "I'm Scott. Scott Hoying."

 

 

I saw Mitch almost every day after the first encounter we'd had. He came down to Starbucks after his classes to hang out with me, and have a cup of coffee. About three months after our first meeting, I took him on a date. A real date. We went on a scenic walk in the woods which led to the most beautiful lake. I had told him that even though the view was pretty, he was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. It was there where we shared our first kiss, and in that moment I knew that he was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

We had been dating for two years when I asked him to marry me. I had the help of Kirstie, Esther, and Kirstie's boyfriend, Jeremy. We littered the woods where Mitch and I had gone on our first date with fairy lights. And at the end of the trail, by the beautiful lake, was where I'd proposed. 

I had written a sappy speech which was immediately forgotten once I saw the look on his face when I had dropped on one knee. We had both been crying by the time I finished exclaiming how much I loved him, and he jumped in my arms, completely disregarding the ring, and muttering something along the lines of: "You don't even need to ask, Scotty. Of course I'd say yes." and, "Fuck you for making me cry so much."

Our wedding was in a small church filled with family and friends. Mitch and I had been crying for the whole wedding, making it extremely difficult to say our vows. But by the end of the night, we were happily married, and excited to start our lives together.

We adopted our first child two years after we got married. On November 17th 2019, we adopted seven year old Olive. She was the perfect child to start off with, and was accepted into our family immediately. In the next three years, we had adopted two more children: Trevor, and Maddie. By this point, our family was complete. 

It wasn't until Olive's fourteenth birthday, when we were driving home from her dance class, and she asked me, "Dad, why do you always say that papa is the most beautiful man in the world?"

To which I chuckled, and responded with, "Because he is."


End file.
